


you be the moon, i'll be the earth

by aeternelle



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 14:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternelle/pseuds/aeternelle
Summary: Anyone, he told her, could perform a magical act. Magic was simply an extension of the caster’s will, their desires made manifest. If the will and the desire were sufficiently strong, even a person utterly unpracticed in the magical arts could work a spell.“It all depends,” he’d said, something like mischief stealing into his tone, “on how badly you want it.”





	you be the moon, i'll be the earth

**Author's Note:**

> It's been almost five years since I last posted anything here, which is, frankly, shameful. So, uh, it's probably prudent to reintroduce myself. Here goes: Hey, my name's Gemma, I love visual novels and crying, so The Arcana really does it for me. I gave a shocking amount of money to a very pretty fluffy magician, then he stole my heart and made out with me in a Lisa Frank oasis, so naturally I had to write about it. Actually, I had to write about the prologue update that was released on the 8th of this month, almost a week ago. This contains some pretty heavy spoilers for Asra's new paid scene in the prologue, to which I did some tweaking so that it would fall more in line with the personality of my fan apprentice and the relationship I imagine she would have with Asra. Thanks to the writers for giving me such a great scene to elaborate on. 
> 
> Now onto the superfluous detail: My apprentice's name is Esme, and her relationship to gender is very similar to Asra's as stated by the creators, i.e. it is a construct and she does not particularly care for it, but she still uses pronouns to which we traditionally ascribe a gender because that's just what she's used to. This is also roughly analogous to the way I conceptualize and experience gender personally. I chose to classify this work as F/M because there is no category on AO3 for nb/nb and because they both use "traditional" "gendered" pronouns. It isn't a perfect solution, it isn't even an ideal one, but it's the only one I got. 
> 
> Title from Purity Ring's "Begin Again", which served as my musical touchstone for Esme's perspective on her relationship with Asra. I also listened to the main theme from Studio Ghibli's "Howl's Moving Castle", Janelle Monáe's "Make Me Feel", and an unreasonable amount of Carly Rae Jepsen. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this thing I feverishly banged out in the course of about 16 hours.

Anyone, he told her, could perform a magical act. Magic was simply an extension of the caster’s will, their desires made manifest. If the will and the desire were sufficiently strong, even a person utterly unpracticed in the magical arts could work a spell.

“It all depends,” he’d said, something like mischief stealing into his tone, “on how badly you want it.”

* * *

 

Time seems to stretch and distort as she forces her limbs, heavy with sleep and the immobility of dreams, to carry her down the black stone path to Asra. Each step feels like an eternity, and her body trembles with the effort of fighting inertia. She can’t feel the stone beneath her feet as she runs, Asra’s form slowly drawing nearer in her field of vision the only indication that she’s moving at all. With the last of her strength, Esme surges forward and seizes his hand.

Asra whirls around to face her, his violet eyes stricken with wonder as their momentum sends them toppling out of this dream and into another.

* * *

 

It’s yesterday, it can’t be, but it is. In an act of remarkable clumsiness, she’d somehow managed to elbow the jar of powdered bat milk off the counter and now has to contend with the debris. The shattered remains of the jar tinkle far too cheerfully against the mosaic floor as she sweeps them into the dustbin, frowning and muttering darkly to herself about the waste. As she finishes and returns the broom to its place beside the shelves, Asra emerges from the backroom.

“Esme…” he warbles, his sing-song tone coaxing her lips into a reluctant smile. “Wait ‘til you see what the woods had to offer today.”

With a flourish, he undoes the clasp of his satchel and upends it, contents tumbling out and onto the linen runner covering the countertop. Her whole countenance brightens as she appraises the bounty of berries, roots, mushrooms and flowers, Asra leaning on his elbows to watch, hands folded under his chin.

“So much! This is incredible… and far more than we need.” She shoots an appreciative glance in his direction, only to meet his apologetic expression.

“I thought it’d be better to have plenty this time. I’d feel awful leaving you here with nothing to eat but pumpkin bread.”

At the reminder, she nearly fumbles the truffle she’s holding, setting it aside hastily and picking up a ginger root, something she’s much less likely to crush unwittingly. Of course, he’s leaving, again, for places unknown and for who knows how long. Anxiety bubbles up in her chest at the thought. Something must show on her face, because Asra takes the opportunity to distract her. As she feigns inspecting the root he moves closer, into her space, and presses a goldberry into her mouth, gentle fingers lingering half a moment too long on her lower lip. Heat creeps up the back of her neck and she swallows, tasting nothing. In a few moments, he would leave the room to pack his bags, and after that, he would be gone. An oppressive silence looms over the two of them, and she knows if she doesn’t say anything he’ll slip away, as he had mere hours earlier. He begins to draw back, but she takes an insistent step forward, giving voice to the desire she’d been stifling for months.

“I want to come with you”

Asra blinks owlishly, then drops his gaze, sighing. Tenderly, he cups her face in his hands and fixes her with a searching look, violet eyes meeting her own hazel.

“I know, and I wish I could take you, but… it’s just too risky.”

It always was. Wherever he went, it was always too far, too fast, too risky for her, but not for him. Something in her chest twists painfully. Was it so wrong to want to be with him?

Gently, she lays her smaller hand over his own, turning in his hold so that her lips meet his palm, and Asra goes still with surprise.

“I’ll risk it.”

His brow furrows, and a shadow passes over his face.

“Why? Are you that eager to put yourself in danger? You want to join me in the den of the man-eating Blood Mountain beast? Slog through the crawling maze of Torturia, only to end up in a quicksand pit in the Bog of Resistance?”

He doesn’t understand. Why doesn’t he understand? Is he really that dense? She bristles with frustration, twisting away from his touch, hands curling into hard little fists at her sides, whole body trembling.

“That’s not it at all!” Her voice cracks, desperation squeezing at her throat. “I want to be with you! On Blood Mountain, or in a quicksand pit, or an endless maze… if that’s where you are, that’s where I want to be.”

There's a beat of silence, her words hanging in the air between them. 

“Oh…” he croaks, eyes going wide as a pretty flush paints his features red up to the tips of his ears. “You want to put yourself in danger… to be with me? That’s…”

Asra worries at the corner of his lip, his hands skimming down her arms to patiently prise open her clenched fists. He takes both of her hands into his own and leans close, so that their foreheads are nearly touching.

“You’re really serious this time, huh?” A wan smile plays across his mouth. “As if turning you down isn’t hard enough already. It’s so much harder when we want the same thing.” Esme’s heart skips a beat at his quiet admission, then picks up in double time. They’re so close now that she swears he must be able to hear it.

“You don’t want to be left behind, and I don’t want to leave you,” he continues, “But… sometimes we can’t have what we want, even when it feels right.” Her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach. Asra gives her hands a firm squeeze, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ll bring back whatever you want, alright? Anything.” As his warm breath fans across her face, the first words that cross her mind spill from her lips unbidden.

“I don’t want souvenirs, I want you.”

Before she can even regret saying it, his whole body shudders with a sigh and he pulls away to look at her, still holding tightly onto her hands. Face flushed to the roots of his hair, his expression is heartrendingly vulnerable.

“You… you do?” His tone is breathless, disbelieving. All of a sudden he can’t seem to meet her eyes. “I can’t… I want… I want you safe.” Asra takes a step back, releasing her hands. He turns to make for the door, but Esme catches his sleeve by the elbow. The gentle tug at the fabric of his shirt is enough to render him immobile. When he looks at her this time, she sees the ache in her chest mirrored in his eyes, and she knows she has to ask, because not knowing is worse.

“Do you… not want me…?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but all that leaves his throat is a wordless, strangled sound. She’s never seen him like this before, floundering, as if the question itself had stolen his voice, and all at once she wishes she could take it back. An apology buds on her lips, but before it can bloom into speech Asra crosses the space between them in a single stride and pulls her into his arms. Their bodies press flush together, one arm around the small of her back, bracing her against his chest, the other hand in her hair, cradling the back of her head like something precious and delicate.

“Of course I do.” He murmurs softly, “If only it were that easy…” Esme pulls back a fraction, just enough to look him in the eyes.

“Can’t it be?” This close, she could count every one of his pale lashes if she wanted. Their noses brush together as the arm around her waist tightens, and for a moment she thinks he might kiss her.

“Believe me,” he sighs, “If I could make it simple, I would’ve by now.” One last squeeze, then he draws back slowly. Hesitating to let her go, he holds onto one of her hands, thumb brushing tenderly across the knuckles, then he looks at her with such clarity that everything else around them seems to fall away. “You’re more honest in dreams, huh?”

“Dreams…?” Is that what this is, she wonders. The room has gone out of focus, intangible, and she realizes the only thing she can feel is Asra’s hand holding her own.

In a moment of lucidity, it comes to her. He’s already gone, far away from Vesuvia by now, and there won’t be another moment like this until he returns. Before she can speak again, he tucks an aster behind her ear, just like he’d done earlier that day. Then he smiles slyly and lifts the hand he holds to his lips, pressing a dainty kiss to her fingers.

When he pulls away and releases her hand his eyes are heavy-lidded, and the look that he gives her sends a ripple of heat through her veins. He speaks then, voice full of promise and quiet intensity, “I really can’t wait to see you again.”

The scene dissolves, but Asra’s voice continues to reverberate through her consciousness, and even as the dream relinquishes her to awareness Esme can feel the backs of her fingers tingle where he had kissed them.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far: A thousand blessings upon your house. I love y'all, truly.


End file.
